


Unwrapped

by mautadite



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Light Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mautadite/pseuds/mautadite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>For Sansa’s birthday, Margaery ties a golden bow round her waist, cuffs herself to the bed, and waits.</i>
</p><p>Or, birthday gifts, and the unwrapping thereof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwrapped

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ASOIAF kink meme. Prompt: ‘For Sansa’s nameday, Margaery ties a golden bow round her waist, ties herself to the bed, and spreads out for Sansa to come find her.’ This is 70% porn and 30% fluff; I figured it was about time I wrote some cute, light-hearted smut for my otp.

Margaery is just settling herself on the bed when she hears Sansa coming in through the door of their flat. She grins, and quickens her pace. Naked, she wiggles herself into place above the covers. The thick golden ribbon is already tied around her waist, secured with a fancy bow above her belly button. There are three stick-on bows; two for her nipples, which are already hardening thanks to the dusky air, and one for between her legs. The adhesive isn’t very strong, but she still makes sure that it’s more strategically placed rather than pressed on. After that, it’s just left to place the key to the handcuffs between her bare breasts, loop the chain around one of the slats of the headboard, and secure herself with a click.

Grinning, Margaery looks down at herself. Not bad at all.

“Marg? You there, babe?” Sansa calls out. She sounds tired, the poor dear. She’d only had one class today, Margaery knows, but three hours with Professor Baratheon would tucker anyone out.

“I’m in the bedroom, love,” she calls back, unable to keep her mirth out of her voice. “You all right? How was your day?”

The walls of their flat are thin, and she’s able to hear the muffled sounds of Sansa dumping her bag onto the sofa, and opening the refrigerator a few seconds later.

“It was okay. Baratheon was ruthless, as usual. I feel like my head is about to explode.”

“Aww. Come in here, I’ll help you relax.” She suppresses a little laugh.

“That sounds lovely.” Her footsteps are headed towards the bedroom now.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up this morning…” Margaery continues, crossing her legs daintily at the knee.

“No, it’s alright, I know you had to get an early—”

Sansa opens the door to their bedroom then, and immediately cuts herself off with a little squeak. Her eyes roam over Margaery, naked except for the ribbon and the strategically placed bows, arms above her head and cuffed to the bed with the pink and gold handcuffs. Margaery grins, feeling a little shiver pass over her body with Sansa’s eyes. Her girlfriend’s tousled hair reflects her flaming cheeks, and some of that heat is already seeping into her pretty blue eyes.

“…so I thought I’d make it up to you,” Margaery finishes, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Happy birthday.”

Sansa finds her voice, but seems to have trouble making it work for her. In the end, she only says, “ _Margaery!_ ” in a scandalised tone that belies her wide smile. She covers her mouth with her hand as she kicks the door closed.

“ _Sansa!_ ” Margaery mocks gently, smiling all the wider. She wiggles against the sheets, clinking the cuffs against the board to show that she is well and truly bound. Her breasts shake with the movement, and her girlfriend’s face goes even hotter. Something like a breathy giggle escapes her lips.

“I can’t believe… is _this_ the surprise you were talking about?” she asks, leaning against the door. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, and her eyes make another trek from Margaery’s toes all the way up to her eyes.

“One of them,” Margaery says sweetly. She nods to the two neatly wrapped boxes on the dressing table. “Your other presents are over there. Completely up to you which one you’d like to open first, of course.” She gives another enticing wiggle, and Sansa laughs.

“I think I’ve just broken some kind of record for the fastest decision ever made, then,” she says, and starts walking towards the bed. She manages to look fond and turned on at the same time, and it makes Margaery feel hot all over. Sansa has this way of looking at her sometimes, like she’s not sure that this is really happening, that they’re really together and so good for each other. Margaery knows the look well, for she wears it just as often. She’s not sure what she’s done, to deserve a girl this lovely.

“Well, come on, then,” she urges. Her nipples are getting even harder, and she’s afraid the bows might just pop off. “Come and claim your prize.”

“Shush, you.” Sansa sticks her tongue out at her briefly as she toes off her sandals. “I want to look my fill too, you know.”

And look she does, raking her bright blue gaze over Margaery until she wants to squirm. As she gets nearer, she claps her hand over her mouth again, stifling another giggle. She sits on the bed near Margaery’s knee, looking down at her.

“Oh my god, Marg… you put a pink bow over your pussy?”

Margaery looks down at herself, and then waggles her eyebrows. “I did.”

Sansa traps her bottom lip between her teeth, and her smile is a long, slow one.

“Well. Happy birthday to me.”

Margaery returns her grin, and leans up for a kiss. Sansa pushes her back down gently with one hand, with a look that says _‘we’ll get there’_ in her eyes. As she unbuttons her blouse, the key between Margaery’s breasts catches her eye. She drapes her shirt over a chair and picks it up, dragging the serrated edge lightly across Margaery’s skin until it meets the golden bow at her waist. Both their eyes glance up at the handcuffs in tandem.

“Should I…?” Sansa starts to ask.

“No.” Margaery’s voice sounds light and fluttery to her own ears. “I only just put them on, I’m very comfy as is.”

“Alright.” Sansa stretches across to rest the key on the dresser, and then climbs, still half-dressed, to sit astride Margaery’s thighs. Her hands drop to either side of her hips, bracketing them like shields. Her hair falls forward onto her chest, curling around her cute, lacy bra, and everything about her is so warm. Margaery’s legs twist, and she feels her arousal mounting.

“So,” she says, sounding even more breathless. “What shall it be? Do you want to be the sexy pirate queen?” Sansa lets out a little laugh at that, and covers one eye with her hand like an eye-patch. “That’s the idea. I can be the runaway princess. You captured me intending to ransom me back, but I’ll do anything—” And she changes her voice with a wink, adopting a breathy falsetto. “— _anything_ not to go back to that horrid castle, Lady Red Wolf, oh, _please_.”

Sansa starts giggling again, almost falling forward with her laughter. Margaery joins her, pressing upwards. This time, when she pushes Margaery back down, she follows soon after, linking their lips in a slow, sultry kiss. Margaery moans at once, feeling the tension slip out of her body as her excitement crops up in goose bumps all over her skin.

“I can’t keep up with you,” Sansa whispers with a grin, rubbing their noses together. Margaery’s first instinct is to wrap her arms around her neck to tug her back in, but then she remembers the cuffs, tugging against her wrists. She nips at Sansa’s bottom lip instead.

“Cops and robbers, then?” She brings one of her legs up, slips it between Sansa’s thighs. “You can be the tough detective chief inspector, I’m the escape artist who doesn’t really want to get away.”

Sansa laughs again, burrowing her face into Margaery’s neck, lavishing the spot with little kisses and nips. Margaery shivers, making another thwarted movement to reach for her, and instead has to lie panting and squirming until the kisses travel up her neck to her ear.

“How about,” she whispers, breath warm against that sensitive spot behind Margaery’s ear, “I play the tired but suddenly incredibly turned on university student, and you can be my gorgeous, wonderful girlfriend with a heart of gold and a dirty mind.”

She punctuates it with a little kiss on Margaery’s pulse point.

“That sounds good too,” Margaery hums. She means for it to sound seductive, but her voice catches on a sigh, and she’s melting by the time Sansa leans in to kiss her again.

It’s strange, not being able to touch Sansa as she normally would, to cup her neck and guide her hands through her hair and down over her back. Strange, but more than a little exhilarating. Sansa has her pinned, and takes advantage of her position and mobility to kiss Margaery senseless, tease her lips until they ache in a good way, and then move lower to find the spots that make her moan. There’s one just under her chin, and Sansa attacks it with relish, laughing softly as Margaery writhes.

“That’s nice,” she breathes out, voice plaintive.

“Mhm? What about this?” Sansa goes lower, trailing her tongue into the cove of her neck.

“Oooh… that’s nicer.”

Sansa bites her bottom lip. She’s so pretty when she’s flushed, shy yet daring, and Margaery could stare at her forever. She moves even lower, raising up so that she can look Margaery in the eye as she cups her breasts.

“You do realise,” she says, removing the bows carefully, “that I’m never going to be able to see one of these things on a gift box ever again without thinking of your breasts, right?”

“Oh, good, that was very much the idea.”

Sansa gives a faux-dramatic sigh, rubbing her thumbs up and down over Margaery’s nipples, giving her breasts a little shake.

“Well, they _are_ very nice tits,” she concedes.

Margaery has another quip at the ready, but she quite forgets it as soon as Sansa lowers her mouth to her breast, and starts sucking on her nipple. It’s already very hard, and Sansa’s wet tongue makes it harder and redder. Her breath hitches, and she pulls at her restraints as Sansa switches to the other breast, planting kisses like dew drops on the underside before latching on to the tip. Her fingers pinch the other nipple, just a quick flash of pain, but the warmth goes straight to Margaery’s cunt anyway.

“Oh, god,” she moans. Sansa’s hair is trailing all over her torso and falling into her face, but Margaery can still see the mischievous look in her eyes as she alternates between lashes of her tongue and gentle pinches. Sansa makes the softest sounds as she sucks, as if Margaery is her first meal in a long day. She arches her back, pushing up into it.

“Go on,” she urges, and has to stop and groan when Sansa scrapes her teeth along a nipple. “Unwrap the rest of your gift.”

“You’re so impatient,” Sansa chides, but moves along nevertheless, giving her breasts a few parting kisses. The ribbon around Margaery’s waist is fairly crushed and lopsided by now, but Sansa still takes her time untying it, pulling each gold string carefully. When the expanse of her midriff is bared, Margaery throws her head back, preparing herself for the delicious onslaught of Sansa’s mouth. It comes lightly, playing along the lines of her ribs like fingers on a piano, dipping down to her navel with grazing kisses, flaring out across her hips with bruising hickeys. Margaery breathes harshly, feeling the insistent throb of her clit between her legs. 

Sansa licks daintily at the crease of her hip and thigh, and Margaery could almost swoon. She feels the warm slide of Sansa’s body moving lower down to her calves, and then the warmth disappears as Sansa puts a knee on either side of her. Margaery’s breath lodges in her throat as Sansa leans forward, all delicate elegance, and removes the bow between her legs with her teeth, tossing it to the side. Margaery shudders.

“I still think you’d make an excellent pirate queen,” she mumbles, rolling her hips subtly as Sansa presses light kisses around the curve of her vulva. Her girlfriend laughs, and the vibration that results through her skin sends shivers racing to her core.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she promises, pausing to rid herself of her bra. Once again, Margaery forgets her restraints, and tries to reach for her. The low curse she gives under her breath when she’s unable to only makes Sansa chuckle a little more. Tendrils of hair are still falling into her eyes, and she looks so beautiful, like a statue that’s come to life and begs to be touched. Margaery can only look for now, but god, if that in itself doesn’t make butterflies riot low in her stomach.

“Come sit on my face,” Margaery offers, crooking one of her fingers where they hang bound above her head. She can’t help herself from licking her lips a little in anticipation.

“Maybe later.” Sansa’s much too straightforward to ever really be called a tease, but there’s that mischievous light in her eyes again. She kisses Margaery’s thigh. “I really want to eat you out.”

The words dance and tingle their way straight to Margaery’s bones, in all their honest charm.

“This is supposed to be _your_ birthday gift,” Margaery sees fit to remind her, even as Sansa wiggles her way onto her belly, spreads one of Margaery’s legs wide, and lifts the other over her shoulder. The cool air rushes in, tickling over her clit and lips, making her grow even hotter and wetter than before. 

“Oh, it is,” Sansa assures her. Her hands reach up to cup Margaery’s hips, and tug her down abruptly. Margaery’s arms stretch taut and she gasps at the resistance, nodding enthusiastically at the question in Sansa’s eyes, the one that asks if that was okay. It was _really_ okay.

Sansa starts at her thighs, trailing feather light kisses up and down the inner skin. There are a couple pillows beneath Margaery’s neck, and she can look down comfortably: at her own blushing body and the sight of Sansa drawing moans out of her like music. She switches easily from one thigh to the other, breath fanning briefly over Margaery’s cunt and making her hips stutter upwards. She keeps Margaery’s legs spread wide, kissing all over her hips and thighs, never allowing her the friction she obviously wants.

Margaery has never been so conscious of her hands, and everything she might have done with them. She might have cradled Sansa’s head, guided her face and mouth where she most wants it. She might have cupped her own breasts, pushing them together and teasing her nipples with her thumbs. She might’ve wet her fingers to touch her clit, give herself a little relief.

But she can’t do any of that; she can barely even move her legs, for all that Sansa grips them as she sucks little hickeys onto her flesh. It feels so good, even through her frustration. Sansa is gentle and firm with her hands, and absolutely devastating with her lips.

When she finally puts those lips where Margaery wants them, it’s with the barest touch. Margaery groans, and tries to press down against Sansa’s mouth, but her arms are already stretched to capacity and she can move no lower. Sansa smiles against her cunt, giving her another gentle kiss, and it’s clear that she’s going to have to rethink that statement about Sansa not being a tease. 

“Please…” she says, jerking ineffectually at the cuffs, and that’s all it takes, really. Sansa adjusts the leg on her shoulder, and lowers her mouth to lick Margaery with a broad stroke, firm and rough, making her release a sigh that must go all the way down to her toes. She goes slow at first, letting her tongue travel up and down and sometimes in, letting her mouth close around Margaery’s inner lips and clit. When she sucks, Margaery feels the tremors grow in her belly, bouncing around in the space between her hipbones. Just the noises Sansa makes would be enough; she eats Margaery out like she can’t think of a better way to spend her days, like time could go on a loop and she’d be content to spend an eternity with her face between Margaery’s legs.

“G-god, Sansa, your mouth is a miracle,” she thinks she says, or something equally besotted. Her hips keep jerking up of their own accord, pushing her cunt into the welcoming heat of her girlfriend’s mouth.

“Did you do the pineapple thing?” Sansa queries with a smile, rubbing her thumb over her clit with an unhurried pace. 

“Yeah,” Margaery moans. She can feel Sansa’s other hand holding her in place by the hip, leaving her fingerprints deep in her skin.

“I thought so. You’re so sweet.”

Sansa kisses her way back to her centre, flicking her tongue across her clit over and over again. It almost hurts, with how swollen and slick it is, but Margaery only begs her to continue, pressing her face against the underside of her arm. Sansa lowers the leg on her shoulder, and puts a hand on either side of Margaery’s hips, using her thumbs to rub hard little circles just beneath her hipbones. It makes her shiver with an excess of want, deepens the ache in her cunt. Sansa’s kisses become deeper and more insistent, and when she suckles her clit again, Margaery cries out low and long as she comes. Her entire body jerks with it, and even though she can’t move her arms, she feels loose and free.

Sansa is smiling as she crawls up her body. She wipes Margaery’s come off of her chin, but it’s still there on her tongue when they kiss, hard and urgent. The jackhammering of her heart only gets louder the longer Sansa kisses her.

“Oh, god,” she groans in satisfaction. She stretches and points her toes, feeling her joints crack. Sansa kisses her neck, tracing the same spots where Margaery can feel the hickeys blooming into life.

“Do you want to come again?” Sansa asks, and Margaery’s throat goes all dry again.

“I want whatever the birthday girl wants,” she replies, because it’s only fair to remind Sansa who this was all supposed to be about. But her girlfriend just kisses her quiet, and curls up at her side as a hand disappears between her legs. One of her breasts nudges against Margaery’s, and she wishes she could put it in her mouth. _Later_ , she promises herself as the first of Sansa’s fingers slides in, _later_.

Her slick eases the way, and soon Sansa has two fingers thrusting gently into her, and then three. Arms strung above her head, Margaery has to toss her hair out of her eyes to look at her properly, at her flushed, delighted face, at her bright eyes that don’t seem to want to miss a second of anything. Every little movement of her fingers conducts an electric burst of pleasure that frissons outward deliciously. Margaery can recognise little things that she’d taught her girlfriend; how she scissors her fingers every now and then, how she curves them inward just so. She pants. Having Sansa fuck her as _she_ would fuck Sansa is somehow extremely appealing to her.

“Are you sure you didn’t trick me into thinking it’s your birthday when it’s actually mine?” she mumbles. Sansa chuckles, and drops a kiss onto her nipple.

Her second orgasm builds slowly, but it shakes her when it comes. Sansa cups her, rubs the heel of her palm against her clit and vulva, and holds her as she moans.

Margaery stretches across, feeling absolutely liquid and dying for a snog. Obliging sweetly, Sansa cups her face, letting her lips linger.

“Can I take you up on that earlier offer?” she asks, pressing a kiss to Margaery’s temple.

“ _Definitely_.”

She watches, biting on her bottom lip as Sansa hikes up her skirt and wriggles out of her panties. Her hair is a mess around her shoulders, and her cheeks seem to have gone permanently red, but she’s so gorgeous to look at in her excitement. Shuffling closer to the headboard seems like a good idea; it lets Margaery relax her arms a bit, and leaves room for Sansa to rest her knees on either side of her head. Sansa grips the headboard carefully with one hand and keeps her skirt lifted with the other as she lowers herself.

She smells good, and she’s already really wet; Margaery can taste it with the first swipe of her tongue. Sansa shudders, and Margaery can see the clenching and tensing of her thighs. 

“That’s nice,” she breathes. She lowers herself again, by just a smidge, and Margaery licks up at her again. Already, she can feel the disadvantages of not having her hands in play. She can’t cup Sansa’s hips and bring her down to ride her mouth when she wants, or control her movement, making her go faster or slower. But god, it’s still really hot to eat her out like this, feeling her roll down against her tongue, jerk back up with little moans when Margaery flicks at her clit.

“Oh god… do that again, please,” Sansa whimpers, and Margaery has to smile at her manners before licking her clit with fast little strokes. She can’t really speak like this, but she doesn’t need to; Sansa seems to be able to read when she needs to breathe, or when she wants Sansa to really sit astride her face. The view is amazing: Sansa’s slim thighs around her face, her stomach taut with tension, her shaking breasts with their hard pink tips. 

Eyes locking with hers, Sansa quivers and voices each moment of pleasure with a moan or a sigh, quickening Margaery’s pulse once again. The slat of the headboard provides a firm anchor to grip as she curls her tongue upwards, sliding over Sansa’s clit and then up into her. A muffled yell is her reward, and Sansa climaxes beautifully, her thighs and her cunt going pink with her arousal.

It takes some time for her to come down from it, but Margaery is patient, licking gently at the wetness laid bare for her. Sansa is sighing when she climbs off of her and rids herself of her skirt, finally.

“That was… mmm,” she murmurs, and cups Margaery’s face to kiss her. It’s messy and sweet, Sansa using her tongue to clean up the moisture around her lips and chin. Margaery giggles, straining upwards to recapture her lips when Sansa moves away. 

“Good. You’ve got some more _mmm_ in your immediate future, birthday girl.”

Sansa is laughing as she stretches across to the dresser, and gets the key to the cuffs. It’s taken her a while to notice, but her arms _are_ starting to feel a little jelly-like. When Sansa frees her, she stretches them carefully to get the blood flowing again. Sansa helps, massaging her shoulders. After a minute, Margaery feels sufficiently recovered to push her girlfriend back against the pillows and pounce on her, kissing her hard and touching her all over. Giving up control for a while undoubtedly has its merits, but this is really nice too.

“How long have you been waiting to do that?” Sansa asks, laughing as Margaery cups her breasts and dots a flurry of kisses all over them.

“Ever since you walked through that door, babe. But for what it’s worth, I could’ve definitely stayed tied up for a while longer.”

“I bet you could have.” Sansa holds up the pink and gold cuffs with a finger, hardly containing amusement. “God, when did you even get these?”

Margaery bites her nipple gently, and winks. “Remember when I went shopping with Loras and Elinor last week…?”

“Say no more.”

Now, Sansa is busy blushing about the fact that Margaery’s brother and cousin might’ve known about her plans for the cuffs (they didn’t, but not for a lack of prying on Loras’ part, the nosy little bugger), so Margaery uses her distraction to press her back against the sheets. The cuffs she throws in the direction of the dresser, and in doing so, she notices Sansa’s other presents.

“Aren’t you going to open your other gifts?” she asks, nodding towards the little boxes. There’s a silver necklace and pendant in one of them, tickets to a Florian and Jonquil concert in the other. Sansa is so easy to shop for, because she’s wonderfully appreciative of everything she has, but Margaery had wanted to make sure that this birthday was extra special. It’s their first, as a couple, and not everyone is lucky enough to have a girlfriend like Sansa.

“I will,” Sansa promises. Her hair fans out against the pillows, and she covers the hand that Margaery has on her jaw with one of her own. “And I’m sure they’re lovely. I just want to spend a little more time with this gift, first.”

She takes Margaery’s hand and kisses each of her knuckles. Flushing, Margaery meets Sansa halfway for a kiss that sends warmth furling all over her body. It’s going to be a long, lazy evening, and she knows just how to fill it.

“Whatever the birthday girl wants.”


End file.
